Page 146 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
“That’s my uncle, Kieran,” Drystan says, moving closer to me so he can keep his voice quiet enough to avoid being overheard. “Cedwyn’s youngest brother.”
“Another uncle?” My brows rise, ire growing as I imagine what horrors this one is responsible for.
“He spared my life once,” Drystan mutters. “If it comes down to it, I would prefer he lived.”
He’s deferring to me, asking rather than demanding, and I offer him a tiny nod. Danu might be filling me with protective fury, but if this male is somehow the only good one left in the Winter Court, that’s worth preserving.
“Nicnevin Rhoswyn.” Cedwyn shoves to his feet, but his expression is perfectly calm. “I’m in the middle of sentencing these?—”
“No need. The prisoners may go.” I snap my fingers, and one of the few guards still lingering in the wings rushes forward to obey.
Cedwyn’s expression is neutral, but I can see tiny wisps of his aura that he hasn’t quite managed to shield, and it’s turning an ugly shade of puce. “My brother was exiled and returned; he must face?—”
“For the last time, Ced, I’m not here for your crown.” Kieran rubs his wrists in exasperation. “My mate has a job to do, and we’re just passing through. Besides, the curse is gone—as you well know—so my exile is over, anyway.”
“Mate?” Drystan’s eyebrows rise. “You’ve mated? Who?”
A female dressed in black steps from the shadows—literally materialising from the darkness before my eyes—and takes Kieran’s hand. The other four males gather around them, towering over her even though she’s easily taller than me. As soon as the red-eyed one touches her, his fangs retract and his stare darkens to a rich brown.
“Your Majesty,” she says in heavily accented Fae. “My mates’ freedom is appreciated.”
Such careful wording, I note with amusement. Little does she know I’m the least likely fae in the realm likely to ever call in a debt. Still, there’s respect in her tone and the flashing blue of her eyes.
“Oooh, that knife is pretty,” Lore croons, blinking until he’s crouched in the middle of the group. His face is practically smooshed into the black-handled blade at her hip. There are gems in the handle, and Danu stirs within me at the sight of it. That is no mere knife she carries, and I frown at the unexpected knowledge.
One of her men—the one in the kilt—reaches for my redcap, likely to drag him away, but Lore blinks before anything can happen.
“Lorcan, no playing with off-realm weapons,” Drystan snaps.
The urgency in his tone makes my gut clench, but thankfully Lore steps back, pouting.
“Why are you here?” I ask, suppressing the urge to grin as Cedwyn goes to interrupt, only to find himself unable to speak.
Bree has silenced the Winter King, and a sideways glance shows it was entirely intentional.
The female swishes her black hair out of her face, displaying a line of dark tattoos along the back of her arm, and studies me.
“The Moon Goddess has ordered me to kill a human.” Her words are slow, but her Fae is otherwise perfect. “A woman named Marianne. She has long hair and a scarred arm.”
Recognition hits hard. Is she talking about the human woman Máel so callously showed off at the Summer Court ball? The one I sent Lore to rescue?
My thoughts must show on my face, because her eyes narrow.
“You’ve seen her.”
Do I tell her? Should I interfere more than I already have? Within me, Danu is quiet, and that in itself seems telling. Perhaps she isn’t on speaking terms with this Moon Goddess, or maybe there are rules about interfering with devotees of other divine beings. Regardless, if the Goddess doesn’t want to get involved, then neither do I.
“I’ve freed your mates at my Guard’s request, to repay a debt.” I sit a little straighter on Wraith’s back. “But it is not Danu’s place to meddle in the affairs of other deities.”
“Just tell me where you saw her,” Kieran’s mate pushes.
My Guard bristles, and Kieran lays a restraining hand on her arm.
“We’ll find her,” he promises, before addressing me. “She means no offence, Nicnevin. She doesn’t know the ways of the fae.”
That makes two of us. “None was taken. Good luck on your hunt…”
“Nilsa,” she finishes, deliberately withholding her full name. “A pleasure to meet you, Nicnevin.”
